Come For You
by kay-pwns
Summary: Feeling shaken and out of control were not emotions that Jennifer Shepard had dealt with often in her career.


_A/N: Tag to _gossipgirrlxoxo _for reminding me that I've wanted to write something with a tag to Jeopardy for a long time. Mild spoilers for that ep, by the way. I know I haven't been around that much... But it's summer and AP tests are finished, so I attempt to revive my account. =] _

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><p>Feeling shaken and out of control were not emotions that Jennifer Shepard had dealt with often in her career. Dempsey had foiled her attempt to free herself from the ropes that bound her wrists – however desperate they may have been in the first place – and, at first, she hadn't been certain that Jethro would catch her meaning on the phone, that he would come after her at all. For a few hours, her mind had raced with the thought that this wasn't how she was meant to die, and then came the realization that she hadn't accomplished everything she'd wanted to. It had frightened her, unnerved her and brought raw emotions to the surface – emotions she didn't quite know how to deal with. Especially with Jethro in her house.<p>

"I'm fine, Agent Gibbs," she tried again. "Jethro, you've done enough today. Go home. Rest."

He said nothing; instead, he swirled the bourbon around in the glass, squinting at it, analytical. No doubt recognizing the brand, the quality. It was his fault that she drank it in the first place. Being his partner, his lover, had affected her in more ways than she cared to admit. The burning warmth of the alcohol as it went down reminded her vaguely of nights in Serbia – of the fire his touch ignited beneath her skin.

Sighing heavily, she shook her head, leaving the study and heading upstairs, to change. Blood spattered her blouse, the stench of the stress that had engulfed the day clung to the material. Jenny felt his presence but refused to be abashed in her own home, in her own bedroom. He was protecting her; he was _"on her six",_ as DiNozzo might say. As she covered her chest and half-turned, about to remark that if he insisted on being a voyeur he may as well make himself useful, he stepped up behind her and reached around, a comfortable t-shirt and shorts in hand. She raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised at his comfortable demeanor. There was no awkwardness in his eyes; given, it was nothing he hadn't seen before, but he seemed as unabashed as she. Since she'd seen him in the trunk of that car, he hadn't been her subordinate and she his boss – they'd been partners again, his near-silent protective behavior annoyingly familiar. Gibbs lifted his eyes and studied her near-naked form in the mirror of her vanity. Finding the angry bruises on her pale skin, his jaw set and he stepped away again. Jen swallowed softly and redressed, not meeting his eyes as she passed him on her way downstairs.

She didn't bother to ask him to leave again, for she knew it would be in vain. Her details had failed to protect her from Dempsey in the first place, and it would be morning at least before his anger simmered. She was in no safer and more capable hands than his own.

Unable to sleep, she worked in the dim light of her study – and he didn't disturb her. Gibbs lingered in the shadows – doing God only knows what – practically unnoticed by her. She would have been fine, continued that way through the night, if a noise outside hadn't broken the silence, and brought back the repressed fear from earlier in the day. Before she could hurt herself or anyone else with the gun she'd quickly grasped for from the desk drawer, Jethro was behind her, immobilizing her wrists and wrestling the gun from her hands.

"Jen, _shh! _It was just a car door; neighbors are home. Jen!"

Physically and mentally spent, she slumped back against him, gradually loosening her grip on the butt of the pistol. Her breathing was faintly erratic, as panic and adrenaline infected her blood stream once again. She recalled the feeling from earlier, as Dempsey had fallen to Jethro's bullet.

"Why did you come for me?" she whispered after a moment, not making to move away from him. She could almost feel his heart beating against her back, vaguely recognizing that he had stayed precisely for this reason. He knew and acknowledged that she had been unnerved, without patronizing her for it. Leroy Jethro Gibbs knew her.

He paused for a moment before answering gruffly, quietly: "I'm a Marine, I don't leave my people behind." After another moment, "I've always come for you, Jen."

She bit back the loaded, _"Not always." _at the tip of her tongue. This wasn't the time to reignite old arguments. Whatever was said would be nothing more than exhausted, below-the-belt jabs. She couldn't judge him for Paris, anyhow; she wouldn't have come after herself either.

"Need something to help you sleep, Jenny?" he asked after a while, when she didn't move away, but rather, settled more against him. She closed her eyes for a moment, pretending not to have heard him, going limp against his body. He sighed and lifted her into his arms, carrying her upstairs – which was sweet, considering how his knee must be paining him – and laying her in bed. He lingered there for a few moments before he touched her cheek lightly, his calloused palm warm against her skin. She felt a flush start at her chest and rise under his palm as her mind involuntarily thought back to the sensations those hands were capable of evoking. He swore under his breath before he left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. She would wake in the morning and he'd be gone, but he would stay throughout the night. Let her think it was a dream of sorts.

Honestly, she couldn't think of what had made her fake passing out. Perhaps she hadn't known what to say to him. Perhaps she'd wanted to know how he'd react. Perhaps it was both, and more. One thing was certain, however: her bed had scarcely felt so cold, and she had scarcely missed him more.

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><p><em>Kay.<em>


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